"Well, sir page," said he, laughing somewhat carelessly as he prepared to go, "it rejoices me to perceive that you treat your mishap with the indifference which a brave warrior—be he stripling or grey-beard—should treat temporary captivity. And God wots you have your consolation; for, certes, the King of England has won a great victory, and the Prince of Wales has proved himself a wondrous war-chief, considering his years."
"My lord," replied I with enthusiasm, "may the king ever so prevail over his enemies, and may the prince ever prove himself the worthy son of such a father!"
"The King of France," said John of Hainault, looking keenly at me as he spoke, "is inclined to blame Sir Godemar du Fay for his defeat."
"In truth," remarked I, smiling, "it baffles me to discover in what way the unfortunate knight could have prevented it."
"Nevertheless," continued he, "there are some about the king who are loudly calling Sir Godemar a traitor; and the king, enraged at the idea of having been betrayed, threatens to hang him."
I trembled for the safety of Gobin Agace, who had served us so well in the hour of need, but I did not deem myself bound to speak.
"Thinkest thou that Sir Godemar could have played the traitor?" asked he.
"My lord," I answered, "I am a humble page, and unable to judge of such high matters of war and state."
"For my part," continued he slowly, "I entertain no doubt of Sir Godemar's good faith; and I see not how he could have resisted the English army."
"Verily," said I grimly, "it seems to me the reverse of surprising, that Sir Godemar failed to do with a handful of men-at-arms and a rabble of townsmen, what Philip, Count of Valois, failed to do with the flower of the French nobility and half the princes of Europe at his back."